


Just Shut Up and Kiss Me

by GenesisII



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Bickering, Cuddling, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Sharing a Bed, Spideynova - Freeform, horror movies, mild jealousy, sharing a bedroom, the team is still living at Aunt May's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenesisII/pseuds/GenesisII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Sam have been dancing around each other for ages - so what happens when one of them finally slips up and kisses the other mid-argument? </p><p>A story featuring how they get together, the progression of their relationship, how they finally decide to tell the team, etc., etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Flash Is Actually Useful (For Once)

**Author's Note:**

> As this story goes on, things may get more explicit. For the first couple of chapters, though, everything is still pretty tame. The rating may be adjusted accordingly. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

BEEP BEEP BEEP–

Peter woke with a jolt, fumbling blindly to silence his alarm clock. It was 7:00am, meaning Peter had at least an hour before he needed to get to school, but he knew from experience that sleeping in meant no breakfast for the day – extra food stood no chance against a hungry Luke Cage.

Peter buried his face in his pillow, trying to block out the brightness of day, but it was useless. Sunlight streamed in through his bedroom window, illuminating the empty futon that Sam had slept on last night. Peter glared at the folded blankets; he must have told Sam a billion times by now to not open the curtains in the morning. 

Stifling another yawn, Peter pulled himself into a sitting position to stretch. He groaned as his fingers worked through the kinks in his muscles, discovering a few new aches that had appeared overnight. One of the prices to pay for being a superhero was dealing with all the lumps and bruises the day after, and unless Peter managed to convince Sam to give him one of his killer massages, Peter would have to struggle through the discomfort for the next few days.

Peter stayed in bed for just a few more moments, revelling in the silence of the empty room – a luxury, now that he had four temporary house guests – before the rumblings in his stomach grew too big to ignore. A tantalizing aroma of eggs and bacon was coming from the kitchen, making Peter’s stomach whine again, and he finally made his way out of bed. 

When Peter entered the kitchen, Sam was standing by the stove (as usual) while his other teammates gathered around the table in various states of sleepiness. Ava was already wide awake, of course, dressed for the day and poring over a new book like always. Danny was quietly sipping at a mug of green tea, looking meditative and slightly out of place in Peter’s kitchen. Luke, however, was slumped over the table, hand clutched loosely around a still full cup of coffee as he snored lightly.

Peter smiled. Whatever his complaints about them the rest of the time, the routine his team had established in the morning was something he could appreciate after so many cold breakfasts alone.

“Yo, Webhead, welcome to the land of the living. You’re the last one up, as usual,” Sam commented dryly, not taking his eyes off the sizzling pan in front of him. 

“Is breakfast almost ready? I’m starving,” Peter replied, choosing not to point out that it didn’t really count if Luke had fallen asleep again in the kitchen. He could have also pointed out that Sam, hair uncombed and still wearing the boxers and t-shirt he’d slept in, wasn’t really that much better himself, but then Peter had learned the hard way that if someone was making you food it was smarter not to antagonize them. At least, not until later in the day. 

”Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on,” Sam said good-naturedly. Another half-minute passed before he turned off the heat, transferring the contents of the pan to the table. “Bon appetit!” 

He served the meal with an exaggerated flourish that made Peter snort, but as he took his first bite all of his taunts flew out of his head. Peter moaned despite himself, unnoticed by the other three – Luke finally waking up at the promise of food – and then froze as he realized his mistake. He glanced at Sam to see if he’d heard, and found the other boy sporting a self-satisfied smirk that didn’t falter when Peter scowled his way. 

Most of the household chores were split up evenly amongst the five of them. They had tried to establish regular rotations between jobs to ensure a good balance of work, but they all had their strengths and Sam’s was without a doubt cooking. Initially, they had agreed that each person would take care of breakfast for one day of the week, with Aunt May handling the weekends, thinking that since there were five of them it would work out well. 

It had quickly turned into a disaster. 

Ava, top of her classes and the most responsible of all of them, was barely capable of making toast. Likewise Peter, having grown up with Aunt May to care for him, could produce little else than cereal. Luke, though actually quite competent in the kitchen, had fallen asleep twice halfway through making breakfast – everyone still asleep had received a rude awakening that day in the form of the blaring fire alarm. And Danny, wise monk of K’un-Lun and strict vegetarian, had realized that if you eat fruit every day for breakfast, you didn’t really know how to make anything else. Danny had given them all sliced papaya on his first day. 

By the end of the second week, Sam couldn’t take it anymore. The rest of the team had gladly relinquished the responsibility onto his able shoulders, and from that day forth they had been enjoying everything from Belgian waffles to French toast every morning without looking back. 

An unfortunate side effect of this arrangement, however, as Peter soon realized, was the boost it gave to Sam’s already swollen ego. At this rate, Sam wouldn’t be able to fit his head into his bucket anymore. The problem was, it was just so good. Peter hadn’t eaten this well in ages (nothing against Aunt May, of course, who was too busy to cook every morning), and the fact that it was Bucket-head who had made the food couldn’t change the fact that it was also utterly delicious. 

Peter finished the rest of his breakfast quickly, ignoring Sam’s smug face in favour of discussing his latest biology project with Ava, who had finally put down her book to eat. Had Peter glanced up even once, he might have noticed the discomfited expression that had appeared on Sam’s face. 

By the time he looked up again, Sam had already left the room. 

\--- --- ---

At the sound of the bell signalling lunch, Peter swept up his books and dropped them into his bag with a thump. He usually lingered in class before lunch break, taking his time to put his things away neatly, but today he didn’t care to stick around any longer than necessary. 

The day had started off well, so Peter wasn’t quite sure what had put him in so foul a mood.  
A peal of laughter rang out from the other side of the classroom as he made his way out, coming from the gaggle of girls surrounding Sam. 

_Oh, wait a minute. That would be it._

Of the four girls clustered around Sam, there was a pretty brunette who had been in English with Peter last year, one still-giggling blonde he knew by sight alone, a busty transfer student he’d never once spoken to, and a girl shorter than Sam by a good six inches – no small feat, that. 

The thing was, Peter knew his irritation was illogical – knew that, so long as Sam didn’t reveal his identity or any of the team’s, he could hang out with as many girls as he wanted to. Really, there was no reason at all for him to get so annoyed just because Sam had spent all class chatting around with their classmates; certainly there was no reason for him to be upset specifically because those classmates happened to be female. 

Peter knew for a fact that it wasn’t jealousy. While the girls were pretty enough, Peter had never once been even slightly inclined to strike up a conversation with them, much less have them hanging around him laughing vapidly at his jokes. And it wasn’t because Sam was getting so much attention, either – contrary to what MJ had hinted at for the first week or so – because Peter got enough of that as Spiderman, thank you very much, and he knew too well the downsides of having fame.

It just _bothered_ him, and he could come up with no rationalization for why. Huffing slightly to himself, Peter made his way to the cafeteria and headed straight for his usual table with Harry and MJ, resolving once and for all to put Sam out of his mind.

“Is something wrong, Peter? You seem upset,” MJ said the moment he sat down. Her journalistic instincts rarely failed her, and the added advantage of years of friendship meant she had little difficulty reading him.

“It’s nothing,” Peter said, waving his hand unconcernedly. “Tons of homework, that’s all.”

The last thing he needed was for MJ to learn about his newfound – okay, maybe not that new – annoyance with Sam Alexander; he’d never hear the end of it otherwise – MJ always got this weird look in her eyes whenever Peter brought up Sam.

Harry was unfazed by Peter’s dismissal to MJ, though, and it looked like he was going to pursue the topic until Peter cut him off to start rambling about some movie coming out soon. Peter didn’t miss the subtle glance between MJ and Harry when he did, but there wasn’t much he could do. How do you explain to your friends that you’re upset because a different friend is being nice to other people? 

 

The conundrum that was Sam Alexander took up much of Peter’s mind for the rest of the day, in spite of his own promise to stop thinking about him. This was perhaps the reason that Peter didn’t notice Flash heading towards him until it was too late.

“YO, PARKER! My favourite nerd! Guess what time it is?” Flash sang out as he approached.

_And this is why we pay more attention to the Spidey-sense_ , a voice in the back of Peter’s head scolded him. His thoughts had been… otherwise occupied, and now he would pay the price. He had only wanted to use the bathroom, too.

“That’s right, _dweebus_ ,” Flash continued as he stomped towards him. “LOCKER-KNOCKER TIME!”

Peter sighed and steeled himself for what was going to be the worst day ever as he turned to face the blond bully. It was just his luck to be out of class at the same time as Flash, when all the hallways were empty and there wasn’t a teacher in sight.

There were exactly two things that made the humiliation tolerable – firstly, the knowledge that he could beat Flash down in a second, and coupled with that Flash’s unexpected hero-worshipping of Spiderman – but that didn’t mean it would hurt any less to get shoved around. Peter could still feel a bruise Trapster had dealt him only last night. Peter brought back his Uncle Ben’s words – _great power, great responsibility_ – to remind himself why he wouldn’t just “deal with” Flash, as Sam and Luke had told him to do before.

Flash grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back into the lockers. He clearly planned on playing with his food before eating it.

“What’s wrong, Parker? You going to run back to Principal Coulson? Go cry home to your mommy?” Flash taunted cruelly, giving Peter another hard shove.

Peter rubbed the spot where his head had made contact with locker, feeling irritated but not particularly threatened. He glared at Flash. Peter could handle bullies like him, but he knew that he was far from Flash’s only target in the school. He didn’t like to imagine how Flash’s favourite ‘sport’ turned out for the smaller students at Midtown.

“Aw, don’t look like that, you’ll make me feel bad,” Flash continued mockingly. “Is baby Peter going to cry?” Peter dodged the next blow, aimed at his stomach, and was knocked down to the floor in retaliation.

_Great power, great responsibility…_ Peter chanted to himself, glaring at the floor. He was not in the mood to be dealing with Flash today.

Flash laughed, and drew back his foot to deliver another well-aimed blow. But before he could make contact, a hand snaked out to grab his shoulder and forcibly turn him around. Flash only had time to grunt a surprised “What the—” before he was doubled over, clutching at his stomach and wheezing.

Peter’s own surprise was only momentary – while he wasn’t used to other students stepping in when Flash was around, he was very much used to the sight of a pissed off Sam Alexander (typically being the cause of Sam’s irritation himself) and immediately began signalling the other boy to back off.

Sam was either playing dumb or just flat-out ignoring him, though – and Peter was placing bets on the latter – because he spared only a momentary glance at Peter’s silent gesticulations before resuming his stare-down with the larger bully. Peter sighed. None of his team really understood how Peter just took such abuse, but Sam was the only one who continued to meddle despite Peter’s protests.

“Pick on someone your own size,” Sam said angrily. Peter might have found the statement more amusing if he hadn’t currently been sprawled across the floor – Sam was shorter than Peter as it was, next to _Flash_ he was completely dwarfed. 

Flash raised his fist threateningly, then froze as the dismissal bell rang out in the empty halls. The sudden flurry of students rushing out of their classrooms made him pause; Peter could practically see him weigh the risk of getting another detention with continuing his fun. Finally, he stepped back. Giving one last glare at Sam, he turned back to Peter. 

“You’re lucky your _boyfriend_ was here to stop me. Don’t think you can get away so easily next time,” Flash spat out, looking furious as he stormed off. 

Peter accepted the hand Sam extended to him, and pulled himself back to his feet. Sam was looking immensely pleased with himself, and it only served to remind Peter of his earlier irritation. 

”I was trying to tell you to go,” Peter said with a huff of displeasure. 

“Uh, a simple ‘Thank you’ would suffice, Bugbreath,” Sam retorted. “And I know you were trying to tell me to go, but as that was a stupid suggestion, I ignored it.” 

“I was handling it,” Peter grumbled as he dusted off his jeans. He gingerly felt the back of his head again and winced; a small lump was already forming. 

“It didn’t look like you were ‘handling’ anything to me,” Sam said unflinchingly. “You know that if you stood up to him, even once, he would probably back off and your—” Sam paused and glanced around at the thinning crowd, lowering his voice slightly before he continued “—your secret identity would still be safe.” 

“You don’t get it,” Peter scoffed. “I have a responsibility with my power; I’m not going to use it to beat up a powerless kid no matter how nasty a person they are. Besides, if he does back off me, what then? He finds himself a different target, another innocent, maybe someone who can’t handle it the way—” 

“He deserves it!” Sam interrupted, an odd expression on his face. “The way he’s pushes you around, saying whatever he wants—” 

“Are you even listening to me? I can handle myself!” Peter said again, cheeks burning. It was humiliating enough just being shoved around, but somehow hearing it from Sam made it ten times worse. 

“Look, Webhead, it’s not a question of whether or not you mind being pushed around like some kind of weakling, or whether or not you’re capable,” Sam said with evident frustration. He stalked forwards, forcing Peter back until he was pressed against the lockers again, Sam glaring up at him. “It’s the fact that you shouldn’t need to put up with this kind of crap from someone like Flash.” 

Sam had a kind of knack for making someone’s name sound like an insult. Thankfully, the hallways had mostly cleared out again, meaning no one was paying much attention to the small scene they were making. 

“Why do you even care so much?” Peter demanded. “If I’ve told you to leave me alone, then just leave me–” 

His words were cut off as Sam angrily grabbed his collar and yanked him down, and before Peter could even begin to form any kind of protest he felt Sam’s mouth against his. 

Peter’s eyes widened in shock, mind going totally blank, and then suddenly – 

Sam pushed away from Peter with a start, his green eyes showing panic for just a moment, and then he was gone, sprinting away, not even giving Peter a chance to call out “Wait!” or “Come back!” or, as a small voice in the back of Peter’s mind was crying out, “Do that again!”


	2. Peter's Head Gets Severely Abused (Sam Forgets How to Brake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is angsting, Peter actually figures this feelings stuff out for once, and no one is listening to anyone anymore (even though they really probably should).

Peter was slightly ashamed to admit that it took his brain another two minutes or so to catch up with what had just happened. The – his mind stuttered over the word for a second – the _incident_ , he could call it that safely, yes, had lasted no more than a few seconds, but… Peter closed his eyes. He could still feel Sam’s hands fisted in his shirt, the firm yet soft press of Sam’s lips against his own, the faint scent of Sam’s shampoo still lingering in his brain.

Peter slumped down to the floor again, and tilted his head back to rest against the lockers behind. Tentatively, he raised his hand to his mouth, pressed his bottom lip with two fingers. That had really happened, right? It hadn’t been some weird, fever-induced dream? Peter put a hand to his forehead just in case, only to confirm that, no, he was not in fact sick.

 _Kissing, as it turns out, has the unfortunate side effect of shutting off your brain,_ Peter observed as he scrambled to get his thoughts back in order. He was bursting with questions, but only one kept coming back to him: _What would I have done if he hadn’t stopped?_

 

Whenever Sam was angry or confused or scared, he went flying. There was something calming about being so high up that allowed him to get his head on straight and think through things more clearly. For obvious reasons, therefore, the first thing he had done after grabbing his helmet and dashing out the building was to head straight up. 

But for all the good it did his head, it did little to help the pounding of his heart. Sam flew through the area aimlessly while he thought it over, unintentionally following the route he took when he made his usual rounds. 

Maybe he could blame it on Mesmero, say he was under hypnosis? Or wait – he could say that Loki had gotten to him, using mind control to force him into doing it! Sam deflated as he actually considered these options. After all, Peter would insist on telling Fury, and if Sam was mortified _now_ he knew it would be nothing compared to having to explain to the director why neither villain would own up to the crime. 

If only he had minded his own goddamn business... But when Sam had passed by the hallway and seen Flash up to his usual tricks, he had been furious, determined to stop him from bullying once and for all. And then seeing that it had been _Peter_ pushed up against the locker – 

Logically, it should have reassured Sam that it was Peter, helped him to calm down and go about his business as the Webhead had insisted the team do. Instead, though, it had set his blood boiling. It didn’t matter that he _knew_ Peter could knock out Flash’s lights in a second if he wanted to, Sam had acted on instinct alone when he’d stepped up to confront them. 

But then afterwards, with Flash gone and the hallway empty except for the two of them, the resentful tone Peter had used made Sam feel like a complete Nova _Creep_. The more Peter had argued and lectured, the more on edge Sam had become, because he knew deep down that Peter was probably _right._

Sam hated feeling like an idiot, especially around Peter. Like during breakfast that morning – it made him stupidly jealous that Ava could talk biology with Peter so easily, throwing out terms and concepts so fast that Sam could barely keep up. He wanted to impress Peter, show him that he, Sam, wasn’t just some moron with a bucket. 

_I am such a screw-up,_ Sam thought despairingly. He hadn’t even _meant_ to kiss Peter, had only wanted to shut him up, but the second their lips had touched, well...

The few seconds that it took had felt like an eternity, Sam’s brain working in overdrive to take in every little detail about what it was like to kiss Peter Parker. Even now, he could recall everything in hyper-realistic detail: Peter’s soft, slightly chapped lips, the stutter in his breathing, the gasp of surprise he let out when Sam had pulled away. 

Looking around, Sam took in his surroundings for the first time with a start, realizing it was far later than he’d thought and much further from home than he’d planned. He was about to turn around and start heading back to Aunt May’s when an ear-shattering screech sent him spinning. 

Sam’s eyes widened as a huge black shadow appeared out of nowhere, swooping down and sending a few tonnes of concrete hurtling down towards civilians below.

 

When Peter finally snapped out of his stupor, he ran back to the classroom and apologized profusely to the teacher for making her wait while he gathered up his things. He left the building and began the walk home in a daze, lost in his own thoughts. 

_What would I have done?_

He repeated the question to himself. A tiny, niggling voice in the back of Peter’s head told him he already knew the answer, but he gave it some serious thought anyway. Before today, if he’d been asked, he would’ve called Sam a close friend, someone who he trusted with his life on the battlefield. But lately, he didn’t know if that was the entire truth anymore. 

There were these small things, see, things he couldn’t just rationalize away. His inexplicable dislike towards the girls who flocked to Sam in class, for example. His gut-wrenching despair when he’d thought that Sam would be leaving the _planet_ to stay with the Guardians. His bizarre contentment, even, at waking up in the morning sometimes and seeing Sam sprawled out haphazardly on the futon below. 

Peter’s gut clenched as he remembered the panic in Sam’s eyes before he’d run off. He hadn’t known what he wanted to say then, and he still didn’t really know now, but he knew with certainty that he _needed_ to talk to Sam about it as soon as possible. 

Which would have been great, if Sam had actually been home when Peter arrived. 

\--- --- ---

“Did he tell you if he had plans after school?” Aunt May asked him with a frown of concern. Peter had spent the last two hours pacing a hole into his bedroom’s ceiling as he waited for Sam to come home. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t be back anytime soon, Peter had taken over Sam’s role of kitchen helper in an attempt to distract himself. “I’ve checked with the others; they don’t know why he’s so late either,” she continued anxiously. 

Peter hesitated, knife poised over a carrot, as he searched for something to say. Should he cover for Sam’s absence? Tell Aunt May that he would go out looking if Sam wasn’t back in the next 20 minutes? Make an excuse and tell her he had absolutely no idea what Sam was doing or why? 

His silence served as answer enough for Aunt May, who paused what she was doing as well to scrutinize her nephew. She looked like she was about to say something for a moment, then closed her mouth and turned back to the pot she was stirring. A few moments passed before either of them spoke.

“Why don’t you go look for him?” she suggested gently. “Leave the rest of this to me. If anything happened between you two, I’m sure it can be worked out.”

Peter gave a start – did she _know_ somehow? But that was ridiculous, even Aunt May wasn’t _that_ perceptive… Still, he had been given a prime opportunity and he wasn’t planning on passing it up. 

Hurriedly rinsing off bits of produce from his hands, he gave Aunt May a quick peck on the cheek in thanks before racing upstairs, grabbing his suit, and heading outside. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he couldn’t stand just waiting around any longer. 

Peter began to make his way around the city, keeping an eye out for anything blue or glowy in the rapidly darkening sky. He had absolutely no plan. For all he knew, Sam had decided to SuperNova his way out to the moon, or, knowing Sam, Jupiter. 

The only thing Peter really knew for certain at all was that Sam always went flying when he was upset: having shared a bedroom with him for a few weeks now, Peter had soon become accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night to see a fully costumed Sam taking off out the window. It had taken Peter a while to realize that these nightly excursions always coincided with Sam’s nightmares – something Peter could empathize with – and from that point on, he’d never quite shaken his urge to call Sam back in and comfort him whenever it happened. 

Sometimes, too, Peter woke to only an open window and an empty bedroom. On those nights, he would stay awake in his bed until Sam carefully climbed back in and slid the window shut behind him; it was only once he heard the other boy’s steady breathing that Peter could fall asleep himself. But now, with no other way to find him, Peter wished that just _once_ he had tried to follow him on one of those nights – maybe then he’d at least have a clue where to look. 

A sudden flash of blue light to his left caused Peter to lose focus for a moment. To his consternation, that split second of distraction was all it took for him to lose focus and crash heavily into a flashing billboard. With a pained grunt, Peter slid off the board and landed heavily on the rooftop below it. 

Shaking off his dizziness, he leapt to his feet immediately and swung over to where he’d seen the light. His eyes darted across the streets below and the skies above, firmly peeled for any sign of the Human Rocket, when he felt a sharp twinge from his Spidey-sense. 

Before he had time to react, however, something collided painfully with Peter midair, driving him straight into the _very_ hard wall of the towering Royal Hotel behind him. If this had been a cartoon, Peter was sure there would be birds flying about his head right about now. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” Peter moaned, rubbing at his now very sore head. Clinging to the wall he had just head-butted, Peter turned towards his attacker and found himself face-to-face with an equally disoriented Nova.

“What’s the big idea, Webhead?” Nova squawked in indignation, voice cracking just a bit on his name. 

“You’re the one that pummeled me into the building,” Peter retorted. “Next time, try aiming better!”

Sam’s expression was masked by his helmet, but Peter got the vibe that he was about to take off again, and there was _no way_ he was getting away with that a second time. 

Before Sam could speed away, Peter shot a web at a nearby roof and, grabbing Nova’s hand with his free one, swung the both of them to the top. Another fast shot of web and Nova was stuck firmly to the rooftop access door. 

“We need to talk about today,” Peter said, ignoring Sam's splutter of protest. “And before you say anything, I just want to tell you that–”

“Uh, Webs, this actually _really_ isn’t the best time to chat,” Nova said, cutting him off. 

“Well, it’s not my fault you ran away before I could talk to you this afternoon,” Peter grumbled, not having forgiven him for that stunt just yet. 

“No, like seriously, I was right in the middle of—” Nova’s words were cut off by another web, this time aimed at his mouth. Peter felt a little bad, but not much. He had been thinking long and hard about this and he had a few things to make clear. If Sam kept on cutting him off every other word, he would never be able to make his point. 

Despite all his planning of what to say, Peter floundered for a moment, unmindful of the still struggling Nova, as he tried to work out the best way to broach the subject. 

“Look, here’s the thing, Sam,” he finally said, steeling himself with a deep breath. “I need you to know that I –” 

 

Whatever Peter had been about to say, Sam would have to wait to hear it. His only warning was the jolt of surprise that passed through Peter’s body – a tell-tale sign of the Spidey-sense hitting him with full strength – before a sonic blast struck the roof and flung the two of them off into the empty air. 

Sam recovered first, righting himself midair and immediately launching a counter attack. He had _tried_ to tell Webhead, the _idiot_ , but as usual he had been completely ignored by the older boy. 

“I was _trying_ to warn you!” Sam shouted in Peter’s general direction, eyes still trained on the dark shadow soaring above him. He hadn’t seen Spiderman land amongst the falling rubble, but the webs that had caught said rubble before it squashed some civilians indicated that Peter was safe. 

Sam glared at the sky; if it hadn’t been for his friendly neighbourhood idiot, Sam would have caught Vulture already. Instead, Vulture was now circling above them, clearly intent on finishing them off before continuing his rampage through the city. Sam dodged another sonic blast, shooting off at once in pursuit of its source. 

Vulture’s dark feathers had the clear advantage in the ever darkening sky; while he could easily slip in and out of sight, Nova was like a beacon with his glow. Sam caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to shoot an energy blast before registering the red-and-blue spandex. 

Peter held up a hand, gesturing his plan silently, and as soon as Vulture came diving back down into sight they began their attack. Regardless of everything that had occurred between them that afternoon, their training served them well: within seconds, it became clear that Vulture didn’t stand a chance against the two of them together. 

 

As Peter bound Vulture up with web, Sam could sense the other boy’s regret behind his mask. Sam understood completely – even though Vulture was technically working for Doc Ock, it didn’t really feel like he was a bad guy. Sam had gotten the story from Peter, about Adrian’s lost past and stolen memories, and it was clear that Peter was still determined to help the teen. It was one of the things Sam admired about Peter, though he probably wouldn’t admit that to his face.

Not giving Peter enough time to object, Sam grabbed the unconscious, webbed-up Adrian and hastily told Peter he would meet him at home. He shot off towards the tricarrier, his mind on everything _but_ Vulture now. 

The _one_ thing Sam had sworn upon moving in with the team was that he would _absolutely, 100%_ make sure that Peter never found out about his crush on him. Now, what other conclusion could Peter draw?

It would make everything awkward, would probably _destroy_ the trust they’d built up recently. Sam felt sick at the mere thought. His one consolation was that Peter hadn’t _seemed_ disgusted with him when they’d spoken before, but then that was probably because Peter was just a decent guy. But that didn’t mean things between him and Peter wouldn’t change – it was inevitable when this kind of thing happened.

Leaving Adrian in the capable hands of Agent Hill, Sam left the tricarrier and began to make his way back home. He had known from the start, of course, that there was no way Peter could ever return his feelings. It had been only too clear what Peter had been about to say up on that roof:

 _“I need you to know that I… think you’re a great guy, Sam, and a good friend… but_ just _a friend.”_

His imagination easily supplied the gentle tone Peter would use to try and let Sam down easy. And then there would be an awkward pause and they’d promise to let things go back to normal – Sam would offer to switch rooms so that Peter wouldn’t feel uncomfortable sleeping near each other – and they would pretend like nothing had happened and laugh uncomfortably about it if it ever came up, and they would probably avoid each other whenever possible just to escape the sheer awkwardness that Sam had caused, and _holy crap he had screwed this up so much._

The knot in his stomach twisted as he drew nearer to home, but he continued at full speed anyway. He felt bad about ditching Aunt May for dinner prep, but he knew Peter would cover for his absence – Peter was a good friend above all, and that fact alone made Sam feel even worse about completely destroying it all in a few moments of thoughtlessness. 

But when Sam arrived home he found Peter waiting for him on the roof, his suit nowhere in sight. Sam couldn’t deny that he was tempted to just walk through the front door and ignore him, but he steeled himself with a deep breath and prepared for Peter’s rejection. Hearing it later wouldn’t make it any easier to bear. 

Sam landed lightly on the roof and took off his helmet, the glow around him fading away to darkness. He made his way slowly over to Peter with all the appearance of someone about to be hanged. 

“Look,” Sam said, plopping down cross-legged in front of Peter, “I know what you were going to say on the rooftop back there and I totally get it, so it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings or anything like that.”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, eyebrows raised, but Sam cut him off again. 

“I’ll swap rooms with Danny, too, if you’re… worried about that or anything,” he continued, breaking eye contact as a flush crept up his neck. “So– um, so can we just pretend like…”

Peter didn’t wait to let him finish his sentence. Reaching out, he tilted Sam’s face towards his, and then, giving Sam only a moment’s warning, leaned forwards and closed the gap between them. 

It took a second for Sam to move, his eyes wide with shock, before he was leaning in, closing his eyes, and hesitantly responding to the brush of Peter’s lips against his. Too soon, Peter pulled away and slowly opened his eyes. 

“What I was _going_ to say,” he informed Sam matter-of-factly, “was that you didn’t even give me a chance to kiss you back. Bad manners, really, if we’re looking at kissing etiquette.”

Sam was speechless for a moment, face red, and then he burst out laughing. 

“Are you telling me that I’ve been angsting over how I ruined our friendship for nothing? Because wow, what a waste of a good afternoon. God, I’m such an idiot,” Sam said with a rueful smile. 

“Don’t feel too bad about it,” Peter replied with a shrug. “As it turns out, we’re both sort of idiots – it took me an entire afternoon just to puzzle out the fact that I like you, after all.”

Sam blinked. “Did – Did you just confess to me?” he spluttered, cheeks bright red.

“I mean, I did just kiss you,” Peter said, eyeing Sam’s flustered appearance with amusement. “Was that not implied?”

A wide grin slowly spread across Sam’s face. 

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” he said, leaning forward and silencing Peter’s indignant retort with a smile.


	3. Horror Movies are Never a Good Idea (Unless You're Ava)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team settles in for the night with, you guessed it, a genuine horror movie marathon that Ava finds on TV. Shenanigans ensue. 
> 
> Or, the one where Aunt May is suspicious, Peter and Sam cuddle lots, and everyone is just a dork in general.

A good twenty minutes later, Sam and Peter finally made their way off the roof, swinging in through Peter’s open bedroom window. Both of them sported mussed hair and swollen lips, and a faint pink flush was still present on Peter’s cheeks. 

“Aunt May thinks you had a last minute project; I told her you were studying at the library until late,” Peter explained as the two of them hastily fixed their appearances. “She should be in her study now, so I doubt she’ll notice you didn’t come in the usual way.”

 

As Peter had expected, only Luke, Danny, and Ava were still hanging around, all of them lounging around in front of the TV. It was a Friday night, and everyone was enjoying a rare break from training. Grabbing some leftovers for both him and Sam, Peter joined everyone else in the living room.

Sam had already taken the other half of the loveseat Danny was on, and with Ava and Luke taking up the other two armchairs that left only one spot for Peter. 

“Move over,” Peter said, shoving Sam none too gently to the side so that he could squeeze in between him and Danny. 

“Urgh, your elbow’s digging into my ribcage, Webhead,” Sam grumbled, squirming against the armrest as he tried to reposition himself. “You know this couch wasn’t built for three people, right?”

Peter muttered a few unfavourable names for Sam under his breath, but obliged and moved his offending arm onto the back of the chair. He was practically cuddling with Sam, they were so close, and it made Peter shoot a wary glance around the room. 

It hadn’t taken him and Sam long to decide that they wouldn’t announce they were dating to the rest of the team. After discussing the matter briefly on the roof, they’d come to the mutual agreement that they should get used to it _themselves_ first, before bringing anything up to the others. 

As for Aunt May, well, Peter knew she wouldn’t have a problem if he wanted to date Sam – she already treated the whole team like family anyway – but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to hold off on the news for a bit. He’d never exactly talked to Aunt May about being bisexual before, and he figured he could work his way up to the news. 

And speaking of news… Peter groaned as Luke, who had been flipping through the channels at random, finally came to a stop on the Daily Bugle’s nightly segment. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Peter complained, face twisting with contempt. “I shouldn’t have to listen to this drivel in my own _house_.”

“Just a few minutes,” Luke promised with a grin. “This guy’s a riot.”  
“Yeah, easy for you to—”

“Spiderman’s a _menace_! I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, and tonight only _proves_ it’s true!” Spittle was flying from J. J. J.’s mouth, he was so enraged. “The good people of New York have put up with the antics of this wall-crawling _criminal_ for long enough, suffering under his crimes without retribution. Property damage! Obstruction of justice! His list of offences is only growing. But, you don’t need to take my word for it!” 

Judging by the tone in his voice, he clearly thought they did. 

“Watch as our friendly neighbourhood _buffoon_ stops the capture of Vulture, known criminal, while putting hundreds of civilians in danger!” Jameson adopted a vindictive sort of grin, before his face was replaced by a shaky, cellphone-captured video.

“Peter, what exactly is he talking about?” Ava asked incredulously, watching with renewed interest as the footage began.

Peter groaned as an image of himself came into view: it was low quality and long-distance, but anyone with eyes could tell that it was Spiderman who was swinging his way through the city. He covered his face. He wasn’t keen on watching Jameson smear his reputation even further through the mud.

The video was short, only about 15 seconds long, but it managed to capture the collision between Spiderman and Nova in its entirety. Nova had been going fast – he was no more than a blur of light streaking across the sky – and so of course, Jameson took it upon himself to give a frame-by-frame narrative as he replayed the clip another two times, putting it in slow-mo to fully capture the occasion. 

Danny, Luke, and Ava didn’t make it past the first replay before they busted out laughing. Luke and Danny were clutching at their sides, howling in mirth, while Ava gasped for breath between giggles.

"It's not _that_ funny," Peter said, disgruntled. 

Sam cringed, sending an apologetic look towards Peter as he watched himself collide with him on screen once more. 

“Yo, Bucket-head, maybe you ought to put some more work into braking next time we train,” Luke managed between laughs, still chuckling heartily to himself. 

“It is often the ones whom we hold dearest who cause us the greatest pain,” Danny said to Peter serenely, patting him on the back kindly.

Ava merely shook her head, muttered “Idiots” beneath her breath, and grabbed the remote from Luke to switch to something less grating on the nerves. Peter didn’t miss the twinkle in her eyes though; he would be surprised if there was anyone left in S.H.I.E.L.D. who _hadn’t_ seen the clip come Monday. 

Unfortunately, Ava’s taste in television wasn’t much better than Luke’s. 

“Horror movies?” Peter asked her with a look of horror as he scanned the movies listed on the guide. “You realize this isn’t one of those ‘best B-listers of the decade’ kind of marathons, right? These are, like, real, genuine horror movies!”

On both sides of Peter, Danny and Sam nodded emphatically in agreement. 

“You guys are a bunch of wimps,” Ava scoffed. “It’s just a movie. It can’t hurt you.” 

Luke grinned, clearly on Ava’s side. “Aw, is the little spider scared of the big, bad monsters?” he taunted. 

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Peter said defiantly, thinking back to the last horror movie he’d seen with MJ and Harry, as well as the nightmares that had followed for the next week. He liked bad horror movies, as much as the next guy around, but this? No way.

“Then we don't have any problems! Great,” Ava said cheerfully, settling into her chair as the first movie started. Peter groaned and buried his face in his hands, inching in just a bit closer to Sam as the title flashed up. He already knew he was going to regret this. 

 

\--- --- ---

 

A few hours and two movies later, Peter was sitting almost fully in Sam’s lap and Danny was pressed up against him on the other side. If they had been cramped before, it was nothing compared to now. 

At some point during the first movie, Peter and Sam had reached for each other’s hands simultaneously and formed a death grip that they ended up maintaining for the rest of that movie. Neither was bothered by what the others might think; with everyone’s eyes glued to the screen it was unlikely anyone would even notice. 

Luke, despite his taunts, was becoming visibly edgy as the gore grew worse, though he tried to play it off with bad jokes at every turn. Danny’s usual zen was nowhere to be found. Only Ava remained unfazed, though she did snort every time Luke let out a high-pitched yelp. Peter gained a newfound respect for her when didn’t so much as twitch during the first few jump scares.

By the time they were halfway through the second movie, Luke had joined the other three boys on the sofa, huddling together with Danny. Normally he wouldn’t have fit, except Peter was now sitting on Sam’s lap as they clutched each other in fear. Any hint of embarrassment at their position had long since flown out of Peter’s head; at this point all his thoughts were occupied by the ghosts that could be lurking about behind him. 

Peter tensed up as the music suddenly cut off. It was dead quiet; the only thing he could hear was Sam’s strained breathing beside him. He watched, petrified with anticipation as the protagonist climbed down the creaky stairs, and then suddenly– 

“Everyone, just wanted to remind you not to stay up too late tonight,” Aunt May sang out as she popped her head in through the doorway. “Remember to brush your teeth before bed.” 

Aunt May blinked at the screams of surprise she was greeted with. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she took in the room around her while the horror movie played on in the background. 

The five teens were all in various states of disarray from her unexpected announcement – Luke had fallen off the couch, Ava was pale white, and Danny was breathing hard as he clutched at his heart. Sam and Peter, too, had jumped together in an embrace, as if that would somehow protect them from whatever evil they were imagining.

Aunt May smiled, shook her head, and left them to it, calling out an apology and a goodnight behind her as she left. 

She walked down the hallway lost in thought, thinking back to the way Peter had been curled up in Sam’s lap – had they been holding hands? Peter’s behaviour that afternoon, too, and Sam’s disappearance… She chuckled to herself. It was always amusing to see Peter try to keep secrets from her. But then so long as he was happy… 

Wondering if she might soon be getting some important news from her nephew, Aunt May went to bed that night with a small smile still on her face. 

 

The third and final movie ended sometime after midnight. Ava turned off the TV and turned on the lamp, illuminating a bizarre but admittedly hilarious scene before her. 

“Oh my god, you guys are ridiculous,” she said with a snort, taking in the pale faces of the other four. Having all changed into their bedclothes after Aunt May’s reminder, the four boys looked like they were preteens at a sleepover. She wouldn't be surprised if they announced they were about to play truth or dare next. 

Ava stifled a yawn, deciding to tease them more about it tomorrow morning. For now, it was getting too late to do anything else.

“Well, I’m off to bed. Don’t forget training tomorrow!” she called out as she left, waving a hand behind her. 

A few minutes passed before any of them were able to follow her out the room – each was unwilling to be the first to move from the relative safety of the room. Finally, Danny unstuck himself from the sofa and said, “We should probably head to bed ourselves. There _is_ still training, after all.” 

He turned and began making his way to the guest bedroom, Luke frantically hurrying after him with a panicked, “Wait, don’t leave me behind!” 

 

Peter and Sam glanced at each other, now alone in the empty room, before Sam broke the silence with a snort. 

“Huh, I never knew you were so terrified of ghosts, Webs. ” He smirked at the indignation on Peter’s face, then continued teasingly, “What would the city of New York think if they saw Spiderman himself trembling at a movie?”

“Me?!” Peter spluttered for a moment. “You’re the one who had to hold my hand!” 

“Uh, I’m not the one sitting in _your_ lap, Webs,” Sam reminded him, looking pointedly at where Peter’s legs were still curled up on top of him. 

Peter turned bright red, but made no move to get off. “Whatever, I still say you were more scared than me.” 

“Right, you just keep telling yourself that, Webs. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Okay then, _wise guy,_ I dare you to go up to the bedroom by yourself,” Peter said with a challenge in his voice. “ _Without_ turning any of the lights on.”

“Wait, what?” Sam’s voice took on a new note of alarm, his eyes widening comically.  
“You know, unless you’re too scared,” Peter continued casually, confident that Sam would back down.

“You wish, Webs! Fine. I accept your challenge. See you upstairs… if you ever work up the guts.”

 

About 30 seconds later, Sam and Peter were back to back, heading up the stairs together with every light within reach turned on to maximum brightness. 

“Let’s not talk about this later,” Peter suggested, eyes darting nervously around the room. Sam reached between them and grabbed Peter’s hand again, ignoring how sweaty both of their palms were. 

“Agreed,” he replied with tangible relief. 

Sam had made it up exactly one step before he’d turned back, deciding very quickly that he valued his life more than his pride. He’d almost shrieked when he ran into something in the pitch blackness of the hall, but a quick hand clapped over his mouth and a whispered, “Dude, it’s me!” shut him up fast. 

Even with Peter at his side, though, Sam was only _just_ managing his terror. Everywhere he looked, he saw shadows and red eyes, demons just waiting for him to let his guard down. He could tell Peter wasn’t faring much better; by the time they’d made it halfway up the staircase (taking practically 10 minutes due to their snail-like pace) Peter broke, frantically sprinting the rest of the way up to his bedroom and dragging Sam by the hand along with him. 

 

“Why did we think it was a good idea to marathon horror movies before bed?” Peter managed between gasps, collapsing against the bedroom door with a groan.

Sam shrugged, struggling to catch his own breath after their mad sprint. “Turn off the hallway lights,” he told Peter. “It’s your fault we couldn’t get them on the way up.”

Peter turned to look at Sam, stricken. “By myself? You can’t be serious,” he said.  
“Dude, it’s like 2 feet away. Maximum. Look, I’ll hold a flashlight for you to come back, okay?” Sam replied. “But someone has to do it, and it should be you since it’s your fault in the first place.” 

 

A few moments of fierce, whispered debate later, Sam found himself in full costume inching his way to the light switch. He still wasn’t quite sure how Peter had managed to talk him into doing this. Curse those deep blue eyes and that stupid pout. 

_Just a few more steps… Almost there…_ Sam trained his eyes on his goal, refusing to look anywhere near the dark hallway downstairs. He inched his way forward, egged on by Peter’s whispered encouragement. _Why does this stupid hallway have to be so long!?_

Sam paused as he finally, _finally,_ reached the end of the hallway, and then took a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, he reached up and flicked the light switch off. 

His reaction speed was instantaneous. The second Sam’s finger left the switch he was flying back down the hallway towards Peter, covering the distance in less than a second. With a muffled crash, Sam hit Peter full-on for the second time that night, sending them both tumbling down to the ground. 

“Ow,” Peter whispered indignantly, rubbing his nose where Sam’s helmet had smacked him. He reached over and removed the offending object from Sam’s head with as much dignity as he could muster, setting the helmet lightly aside on the floor. “Do you _have_ to keep on doing that?” 

“It’s not my fault you were standing at the door like an idiot!” Sam whispered back, propping his upper half off the floor so he could see Peter’s face. 

“Wait, shut up,” Peter whispered suddenly, holding up a hand to shush Sam. Peter was clearly listening intently for something and Sam froze, petrified, straining his ears as well. 

“What,” Sam croaked, his voice hoarse. 

“No, we’re good,” Peter said, Sam visibly deflating as the tension left his body. “I was just worried we might have woken Aunt May up.”

“Ugh,” Sam said with a groan. He collapsed back onto Peter’s chest with a thud and buried his face into Peter’s neck. His voice was muffled as he continued, “Don’t _do_ that to me, _Jesus._ ”

“Sorry,” Peter said, letting out a breathless laugh. They were both silent for a moment, and then, “Sam, what are you doing, that tickles—”

Peter’s protest cut off with a gasp, as Sam stopped nuzzling against him only to begin nipping lightly at the skin on his neck. All thoughts of ghosts and spirits flew from his head; all Peter could think about now was the warm weight of Sam against him, the press of their chests together, the way their legs were tangled together on the floor. 

Peter wasn’t sure exactly how long they stayed like that, Sam trailing tiny kisses up his jaw, but eventually he couldn’t help the yawn that overtook him. Sam pulled back, scrutinized his face, and then simply said, “Bed.”

It was with only a tiny bit of reluctance that Peter allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, but he forgot about his disappointment in a flash when he realized that Sam planned on joining him in his bed. 

They curled up under the covers together, the moon providing just enough light to see each other’s faces. Sam yawned widely, his eyelids drooping shut. The exhaustion of the day’s events were finally catching up with both of them.

A sudden thought popped into Sam’s head, though, and his eyes shot open. “Peter?” he said quietly, wondering if the other boy had already fallen asleep. 

“Hmm?” Peter’s voice was heavy with sleep, but he opened his eyes enough to squint at Sam through the dark. 

_Well, good enough, anyway._ He waited until he was sure that Peter was paying attention, then said, “I never really told you properly, back on the roof. So, you know, I just wanted to say… I really like you.”

Peter leaned in and pressed his lips against Sam’s in a chaste kiss. “I know,” he said softly as he pulled back. “I really like you, too. Now go to sleep, Buckethead.”

With a content sigh, Peter snuggled in closer to Sam and closed his eyes again. For once, neither of them had any nightmares that night. 

 

\--- --- ---

 

"We don't talk about this to _anyone_ ," Luke hissed. "Not Peter, not Sam, not Ava, not any kind of weird, mystical dragon in K'un-Lun. Got it?"

Choosing to ignore the last bit, Danny adopted an image of solemnity. “You have my word,” he said formally, inclining his head slightly.

“Good.” Luke huffed. He scooted over to make some room, then lifted up a corner of his bed sheets with an impatient gesture. “Now get over here.”

By unspoken agreement, they both slept back-to-back that night. And if neither of them turned off the bed-side lamp before falling asleep, well, no one had to know about that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, when the next chapter is finished I'll be bumping this fic up to an M.  
> Hope everyone enjoys so far, and thanks again for all the lovely comments!


	4. Peter Has Doubts (But Only For About 3 Seconds Flat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started with a kiss, and then things just kinda happened from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short update! As it turns out, writing is hard. Especially when trying to keep up with school and all these deadlines. 
> 
> If all goes well, hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than this one was.

One of the downsides of being a superhero was that you always needed to be ready to go at any instant. It didn’t matter where you were, or what you were doing – the second you got a distress call from your communicator or heard the telltale signs of the Wrecking Crew paying a visit to downtown New York, it was your responsibility to be in costume and on the move within seconds. 

Since he’d started this whole superhero business in the first place, Peter had gotten used to waking up in the morning in a state of panic, tearing off the costume he’d collapsed into bed in the night before so that Aunt May would never suspect he was more than just her geeky nephew. 

And for that reason alone, when Peter woke up the next morning to the sound of a knock at his door, his well-trained reflexes sprang into action and sent him into a flurry of motion. 

It took Peter half a second to register the sleepy Sam curled up against him under the covers, a tenth of a second to determine that it was Aunt May knocking at the door, and exactly two seconds more to get over his panic and attempt to shove Sam to the floor. 

_Attempt_ being the key word here. Peter had only gotten halfway through the shoving-Sam-off-the-bed part of his plan when Aunt May opened the door with a frown.

For a second, Aunt May didn’t say anything, standing in the doorway with an expression of mild surprise. 

And then Sam broke the silence, groaning, as he finally opened his eyes only to discover himself dangling halfway off Peter’s bed. 

“What the hell, Parker?” he snapped, still oblivious to Aunt May’s presence at the door. “What did you have to do that for?”

Peter looked at Sam with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Clearly, Sam still needed more training for the “ready to go at any instant” thing.

Struggling to untangle his legs from Peter’s comforter, all Sam succeeded in doing was sending himself crashing back down to the floor. Peter stiffened, unsure if he should be laughing or worrying about Aunt May, while Sam sputtered indignantly from under a giant heap of blankets. 

Aunt May started to giggle. 

“Those must have been some scary movies last night, huh?” There was a small twinkle in her eyes, the corners of her mouth creased into a poorly-hidden smile. “I just wanted to let you boys know that the others are eating breakfast downstairs. You should come down soon or it’ll all be gone.”

On those words, she shut the door and headed back down to the kitchen, still chuckling to herself. Peter waited until he could hear her footsteps on the stairs, then turned to Sam. “Really?”

“What did I do?” Sam said, offended. “It’s not _my_ fault you pushed me off the bed.”

Peter stared at the outraged expression on Sam’s face, and couldn’t help the grin that took over his face. It was impossible to be worried about Aunt May catching them like that when Sam was looking so utterly disgruntled. 

“You’re an idiot,” Peter informed him matter-of-factly, still smiling. 

Sam narrowed his eyes, then adopted an expression of resignation. “Well, lend me a hand up, at least,” he said, reaching out as he spoke. “It’s _your_ fault I’m down here in the first place.”

Snorting at the pout in Sam’s tone, Peter grabbed Sam’s hand and was about to heave him up when a sudden yank on his hand sent him tumbling down to the floor as well. 

“What—Buckethead!” 

Sam lacked Peter’s self-discipline; he held it together for all of two seconds before collapsing into laughter. “Your face,” he wheezed. “Priceless!” 

Peter stared at the other boy, contemplating his options. He _could_ be the bigger man. Just stand up, brush himself off, walk downstairs to get breakfast. 

Or... he could take advantage of the fact that Sam was now completely off-guard after his little victory. It would be beyond easy; Sam couldn’t have presented himself as a better target if he’d tried. 

Sam recovered from his laughter long enough to start mocking Peter’s cry as he’d fallen. 

Peter decided he didn’t really care so much about being the bigger man just this once. 

THWAP! 

Sam was cut off mid-laugh as the pillow hit him square-on in the face. He blinked for a second, stunned, but recovered quickly.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he said, sending the pillow flying back at Peter’s face. 

“That the best you can do?” Peter taunted, his reflexes allowing him to dodge this hit with graceful ease.

“Pfft, you got lucky,” Sam said accusingly, scanning the room for something else to throw. 

But Peter didn’t give him the chance – without warning, he lunged at Sam and sent him crashing to the floor, starting a wrestling match that only ended when Peter had pinned Sam to the floor, his legs straddling Sam’s waist in a reversal of their positions from the night before. 

“No fair,” Sam complained, slightly out of breath from the struggle. He tugged at his arms, but it was hopeless – Peter’s firm grip around his wrists might as well have been manacles for all the movement they allowed Sam. “I don’t even have my helmet,” he continued with a grumble, “and you’re using your full spidey-strength against me.”

Peter shrugged, unrepentant. “It’s not _my_ fault that you suck.” 

Sam snorted, and made another half-hearted attempt at escape. “So, are you planning on sitting there all morning, or…?”

Whatever retort Peter had been about to make flew completely out of his head as Sam wriggled beneath him again. Suddenly, he became all too aware of the position that they were in right now – Sam, pinned to the floor beneath him, his arms trapped above his head, his lips pink and full, just begging to be kissed… 

_What the hell,_ Peter thought recklessly. 

Not giving himself any time to feel embarrassed about it, he shifted his weight forward and captured Sam’s mouth in a deep, lingering kiss. Taking the other boy’s moan as permission, Peter darted his tongue between his lips, revelling in the still-new sensation of the scrape of Sam’s teeth and the wet heat of his mouth. 

He wasn’t sure when he’d let go of Sam’s hands, exactly, but he gasped, and then groaned into their kiss, as Sam’s hand found their way into Peter’s hair and gave a none-too-gentle yank. 

Peter nipped at Sam’s lip in retaliation, and felt a pleasant jolt run through his body as Sam hissed and tugged him in closer. 

It was still so new, all of it, but Peter didn’t think he would ever get enough. It didn’t matter that they were still clumsy; it almost made it better just knowing that they were experiencing this with each other, together, for the first time. 

And then Sam did something with his tongue, and Peter _moaned,_ and completely against his will his hips thrust desperately against Sam and—

_Woah. That’s new._

“S-Sorry,” Peter managed, face blazing red. “I wasn’t— uh—expecting that.”

Sam blinked up at him from the floor, looking utterly debauched with his messy hair and swollen lips. “I hope you’re apologizing because you stopped kissing me,” he said with a frown. 

“You’re not – mad?” Peter said hesitantly.

Sam adopted his Peter’s-saying-something-I-think-is-stupid-but-I’ll-humour-him-for-a-bit-anyway face, and said, “You know that I really like you, right? Like, I’m pretty sure we covered that bit last night, but if you need me to say it again…”

“Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?” Peter asked, dumbfounded. 

“Do _you_ think we’re moving too fast?” Sam countered, eyebrows raised.

Peter paused, considering. On the one hand, they’d only officially been together for a day at this point (and really, not even that much), but then there’d been all the months they’d trained together, fought together, hell, lived together. Months of bickering together, and hanging out together, months of stupid competitions and reckless dares, months of quietly feeling guilty every time he caught his eyes lingering on the spots where Sam’s costume stretched tightly against skin during training. 

And Peter decided that he didn’t really care if they’d only just gotten together, he would take every chance he could get to be with Sam, provided Sam was willing, and besides, when it really came down to it, they’d been together for so much longer than just last night, and—

“No,” Peter said, a slow smile stretching across his face. 

“Good,” Sam huffed, glad to have settled the matter. And without further ado, he wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck and dragged him into another searing kiss. 

It didn’t take much for the curl of arousal in Peter’s belly to flare up again, and before long he found himself moaning into Sam’s ear as Sam’s hands wandered across his skin, gasping out Sam’s name in shuddered breaths. 

When Sam rolled his hips forward, creating a delicious pull of friction, Peter forgot how to breathe for a second. Honestly, it was kind of a miracle that he didn’t collapse altogether, his knees felt so weak. 

“ _Sam,_ ” he moaned, and his hips rocked down of their own accord to give an answering thrust that made Sam gasp and clutch at the hem of Peter’s shirt. Peter was harder than he’d ever been in his life, and judging by the bulge in Sam’s shorts, he wasn’t alone on that front. 

Desperately, Sam recaptured Peter’s mouth in a brief kiss, sucking on his bottom lip with a groan. It was all too much and yet not enough, and more than Peter ever would have imagined in his wildest dreams. 

Every move Peter made was reciprocated just as eagerly by Sam, every gasp he gave met with a moan. Peter leaned down and sucked at the skin beneath Sam’s jaw, eliciting a murmur of, “Keep going, right there,” and then, when Peter rolled his hips down again to drag their erections together, a breathy gasp of “Oh _god_ , yes.”

“I’m getting close,” Peter breathed, panting at the rhythm of Sam’s thrusts. Sam nodded mutely, his eyes closed and his head tilted back, unable to formulate a verbal response.

Peter shifted his weight, changing their angle, and then Sam’s hands slid down and grabbed his ass, and although Peter had secretly hoped he could get Sam off first, he couldn’t stop himself from coming, from giving in to the relief he so desperately needed.

Pushed over the edge by Peter’s final moan, Sam let out a gasp and followed suit. 

Peter finally did collapse, then, his arms completely giving out beneath him, and he let himself fall forward onto Sam’s chest. He stayed there, listening to the pounding of his heart and Sam’s, and they remained in a satisfied silence for a few moments. 

“You don’t regret it?” Sam asked, looking down at where Peter had burrowed his face against his chest. 

“Do _you_?” Peter asked, responding with Sam’s earlier tone. 

Sam snorted, and a moment later they were both laughing, carefree and breathless, Peter rolling off of Sam’s chest to lie beside him on the floor still giggling. They both needed to clean themselves up, preferably sometime soon, but for now all they wanted to do was lie there with each other, holding hands. 

In the end, it was a long time before they finally made their way down to breakfast that morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the rating has now been bumped up to an M. Depending on how things go, it's quite likely that the story will only get worse (or better, depending on how you look at it) from here on. 
> 
> Thanks for everyone's comments so far! :)


	5. Ava's Struggle is Real (Peter Tries to Cook)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava is getting pissed. Sam is doing his best to teach Peter how to cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set about a week after the last chapter takes place. Sorry for the delay!

Ava narrowed her eyes at them. Another beautiful Saturday afternoon spent watching them cozy up to each other like they were being secretive. 

Did they think she was an idiot? It was impossible _not_ to realize that something had changed between the two of them recently, with the way they were always leaning into each other, constantly finding reasons to casually touch. Their sudden habit, she thought with a shudder, of locking themselves up in Peter’s bedroom for an hour or so every night _alone_ was enough to be cause for suspicion. 

She tried to turn her focus back to her book, doing her best to ignore the unnecessarily close way that Sam was leaning into Peter in front of the stove top. Sam had been trying to increase Peter’s meagre cooking talents for a few days now, with moderate amounts of success, and Peter had progressed all the way up to an omelette. 

“Ugh, how is it even possible for you to be so bad at this?” Sam groaned, his voice carrying to the living room couch where Ava was curled up with a book. “No, no, look, here – you take the egg like this – no, not like that, are you even paying attention? – and literally just _hit_ it against the bowl.” 

The sound of an eggshell cracking under an enormous amount of force dragged Ava’s eyes back up to the kitchen, where Peter was now sheepishly holding a crumpled egg, yolk dripping down his wrist. 

“Oops?” Peter said, his expression apologetic. Sam groaned, shaking his head at Peter’s hopelessness, but his poorly-hidden smile made it clear that he wasn’t the least bit upset.  
Ava sighed, noticing a familiar glint appear in Peter’s eyes. Knowing from experience how this would turn out if she didn’t put a stop to it, she took it upon herself to call out, “If you guys get into _one_ more food fight, you know Aunt May is going to ban you from the kitchen, right?” 

She almost laughed at the way the two of them jumped apart from each other guiltily, Sam blushing and Peter stammering out a denial as he inched his egg-covered hand away from Sam’s shirt. 

Ava rolled her eyes; it had only been a few days since she’d first started realizing something was up between them. Another few weeks of this, and she would definitely go insane. 

The worst part was that Danny and Luke were still completely oblivious to the entire situation. It was true that Peter and Sam were as insufferable as ever towards each other during training and battles, but one would think that their newfound closeness at home would have raised some flags for the rest of the team. 

Muttering a few unfavourable things under her breath, Ava returned to her page – taking a few seconds to find her sentence again for the umpteenth time – and firmly resolved to ignore them from now on. She didn’t think she could survive living with them like this if she didn’t. 

\--- --- ---

Peter rinsed off the remaining bits of yolk from his hand, grimacing as he noticed the goop that had landed on his jeans. He changed quickly, aware that Sam was still downstairs waiting to finish their barely-started omelette, and let his mind wander to the past few days. 

It had only been a week and a bit since they’d started secretly dating, but Peter still couldn’t get enough of the sheer happiness he felt at being with Sam. Whenever they were together, Peter felt like his body was constantly on alert to the faintest touch between them, not unlike a spidey-sense towards Sam Alexander. 

But Peter couldn’t deny that it was still difficult when they were with the rest of the team. When it came to dating Sam, the _secretly_ part of things was what made it hard (no pun intended) – the amount of work Peter had to put into stopping himself from reaching over and kissing Sam sometimes was unreal, and he had noticed that Sam, too, would make a visible effort to stop his hand from lingering on Peter’s shoulder or side when they were in public. 

Peter’s one respite was the time they got together at night – he never would have imagined being so grateful that the heli-carrier was out of commission for a while. If it weren’t for that small time together, Peter wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d ended up snapping and doing something stupid like kissing Sam right in front of Aunt May. 

So Peter survived on the knowledge that they would have the night together, and made it through the rest of the day on the small touches between them instead. The lingering glances he sometimes caught Sam giving him both helped and made everything entirely worse at the same time. That had been the reason, in part, that he’d lost his focus downstairs after all. 

It was, quite frankly, ridiculous how much Peter enjoyed watching Sam cook. Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed watching Sam do just about anything. Seeing Sam’s gaze of concentration, his eyes filled with pure focus, and then having that gaze turned on him? 

Peter’s subsequent lapse in concentration, coupled with his not-so-insignificant spidey-strength, had resulted in the mess he was currently cleaning up. 

_Stupid Sam and his stupid cooking and those stupidly perfect green eyes…_

His ruined jeans tossed into the hamper and his hand free of any remaining traces of eggshell, Peter made his way back to the kitchen and found Sam putting the finishing touches on what looked like a mouth-watering omelette.

Sam cracked a grin back at Peter as he noticed the other boy’s return. “I hope you don’t mind terribly that I finished up without you. Got tired of waiting for you to get back and all.”

Peter couldn’t find even the slightest indignation within him as Sam presented him with a fully loaded plate. “You’re still teaching me later, you know,” he mumbled, speaking through a mouthful of tomato, egg, and cheese. 

“I hold to my promises, Webhead, relax,” Sam said teasingly, grabbing a fork and stealing a bite off Peter’s plate. “Only you would still complain even when you’re getting free food,” he continued affectionately. 

Sneaking a quick glance back to the living room to confirm that Ava was still buried in her book, completely oblivious to her surroundings, Peter grinned and leaned in to press a quick kiss against Sam’s cheek. “For the food,” he said, shrugging, enjoying the faint blush that appeared on Sam’s cheek at the contact. 

“ _Ava_ ,” Sam hissed meaningfully, eyes darting back to where she was sitting, still mostly within their line of sight from the kitchen table. But he still moved his fork to his other hand and let his right hand slide over to Peter’s left under the kitchen table, silently interlocking their fingers.

Peter smiled, barely able to restrain himself from kissing Sam again as he saw the bashful look on Sam's face. It was the small touches, the lingering gazes, the way Sam leaned into him when they sat together on the couch. If dating Sam secretly meant he got to see Sam get flustered like this, then yeah, Peter could survive on this. 


End file.
